


Flour, Flower?

by Eleven_11



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Attempting Chef!Louis, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Funny, M/M, Non AU, Pancakes!, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tickle Fights, Well I think it's funny, Well attempted pancakes, it's just fluff, probably, sleepy!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 08:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15239715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleven_11/pseuds/Eleven_11
Summary: "'Okay, what’s white and powdery?' He quickly scanned the shelves he’d basically memorized by now and grabbed everything that was white and powdery. This left him with baking powder, salt, corn starch, powdered sugar, gelatin, and some vanilla protein powder. He took the salt off the table because he’d use that later in the recipe, but everything else looked okay so long as he didn’t use too much of it. He figured that if he only used a little of each, you wouldn’t be able to taste any of it and it’d be fine. Right? Flour didn’t taste like anything anyway and they had a blender."----Louis attempts to make Harry some pancakes without flour. It goes terribly wrong. Featuring tickle fights and an abandoned blender. It's really just uselessly endearing fluff.





	Flour, Flower?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first fic I've written! It's part of the Wordplay Fic Challenge, so please check out what everyone else has written! This is really just 5k of fluff; I'm hoping it lifts someone's mood out there! 
> 
> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Need". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/need/works), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works) or find the masterpost for this year’s challenge here.
> 
>  
> 
> Happy reading!

**Flour, Flower?**

            Louis stared at the empty space in their cupboard where the flour should be. In hindsight, he really should have checked to make sure they had flour before he started mixing everything else, but who doesn’t have _flour_? He wasn’t anything near a chef, but he was still pretty sure flour was one of those things that people always just _had_. Granted, they had just gotten back home from tour two days ago, but Louis was still disappointed in their lack of stereotypical homeowner-ness. And by “their” he definitely meant “Harry’s.”

            “Well shit, Hazza. What am I supposed to do now?”

            He hadn’t expected Harry to reply, seeing as he was currently sleeping, but the microwave dinging to tell him his butter was melted wasn’t exactly what he was looking for either. It taunted him.

            “We’ve got to have something…” he mumbled as he stuck his head further into the cupboard. They had bags and bags of ingredients labeled with writing Harry was careful to keep neat. Wouldn’t want to mix our chia seeds with our organic steel cut oats, now would we? He moved to the next highest shelf and found a good collection of jarred and pickled...things, a half-eaten bag of seaweed, and some more fucking oats. (But Louis buys _one_ box of Quaker granola bars and he’s not taking care of himself.)

            He went from shelf to shelf, digging more carefully than the first time, and actually stopped to read all the labels. He still couldn’t find it anywhere. He was tempted to call his mum and ask her to find it because mum’s have that super ability to make things appear, but he doubted that she’d appreciate a call from her adult son at five in the morning asking her to find his flour. He supposed he could just go to the store, but he wasn’t wearing anything but a hat and a very large t-shirt. He really thought Harry would appreciate this outfit more than pancakes made with flour.

            “Oh who needs it anyway?” he asked the various food things at large. They didn’t reply, which was good. “You don’t need flour to make pancakes,” he stated as he shifted bags and boxes randomly, hoping to find the flour cult’s secret hiding place or even some of Harry’s god-forsaken organic flours made of something Louis was pretty sure flour shouldn’t be made of. (But whatever, he’d worked in a _bakery_ , and knew “everything there is to know about the basics of baking, Lou, and flaxseed flour is totally an acceptable flour. Louis didn’t question the flours because he loved Harry, he really did, but he did _not_ need to be reminded of Harry’s hometown bakery even more than he already was.) Maybe if he sang a little flour song and did a flour dance, the flour would just come out to join the party. It could be doing the fucking Macarena and Louis would weep with joy.

 

“Flour, you’re a rockstar, get on out here, get maaaade into some

pancakes, yeah I love pancakes, they taste so greaaatttt!”

 

It honestly wasn’t a bad song, if he were flour he’d definitely wiggle on out.

 

“Flour, flour flour flour!

I need some flour...

I need a fucking hobby!

Shit, this is sad…”

 

            The song got sad at the end, but he carried the tune the whole time and he was sleepy. Louis gave himself a B+ for effort. After the song didn’t work, though, he resigned himself to believing that there was no flour and that he needed to figure something out.

            “Okay, what’s white and powdery?” He quickly scanned the shelves he’d basically memorized by now and grabbed everything that was white and powdery. This left him with baking powder, salt, corn starch, powdered sugar, gelatin, and some vanilla protein powder. He took the salt off the table because he’d use that later in the recipe, but everything else looked okay so long as he didn’t use too much of it. He figured that if he only used a little of each, you wouldn’t be able to taste any of it and it’d be fine. Right? Flour didn’t taste like anything anyway and they had a blender.

            However, it didn’t look like he’d be able to get enough “flour” without having to use a crazy amount of protein powder, so he consulted the cupboard once more. Now that he had the blender idea in mind, he had a few more choices. He pulled one of the boxed of oats and his eyes snagged on the pale powder at the bottom of their Cheerios container. He smiled. Why hadn’t he thought of Cheerios before? They were practically just hard flour!

            Being the loving boyfriend he is, and still holding onto hope that this breakfast could be a surprise for Harry, Louis gathered everything up and went outside to the balcony, grabbing the blender along the way. He poured a couple centimeters of each ingredient into the blender until it looked good, closed the lid, and hit the “pulverize” button. The lid didn’t fly off like one of those terrible Hallmark films, but the array of beige tones the blended made within the glass container was actually quite nice. Louis stopped blending, shook the container a bit, and turned it back on again. He felt like a proper chef/scientist/calm, cool, and collected housewife. After a while, though, the mixture in the blender was taking up double the amount of space it had originally, but instead of panicking, Louis just poured some out and kept going. See! Calm, cool, and collected.

            He had to empty the blender two more times, but after about ten minutes he thought it was good enough to pass as flour. Holding his flour child in carefully, he made his way back to the kitchen and dumped it in the waiting eggs, milk, (now re-melted) butter, and vanilla. He whisked it all together and had a few dollops of batter on his skillet in no time.

            After about ten minutes of babysitting the skillet, Louis heard Harry walk into the kitchen, footsteps light and small like he was floating on a cloud of blissful post-sleep drowsiness. Louis glanced over his shoulder with a smile, and Harry came to hooked his chin on Louis left shoulder. Harry kissed him on the cheek, making discontented noises until Louis turned his face enough to kiss him on the lips. Early morning Harry was very clingy, very whiny, and very cute. Louis loved early morning Harry.

           “Morning sleepy.” Louis smiled at Harry and kissed his nose. Harry’s face scrunched up and he nuzzled the top of his head into the side of Louis neck. His arms came around Louis side, one hand settling on his stomach and the other on his back. Harry hummed something that Louis sure had a melody if he really listened, and wiggled his body. When Harry started wiggling his fingers too, however, Louis had to step in.

           “Oi! None of that! Do you want me to burn your breakfast? Because if you challenge me to a tickle fight, I _will_ win.” Harry knew Louis would win because Louis always won. Sneaky bastard could somehow just turn off his response to tickles. He said it was a survival skill that came with living with so many younger siblings. Harry called it cheating.

            Harry didn’t stop moving his fingers, though. With the most shit-eating of shit-eating grins, he dug his fingers in harder and even moved the hand on Louis’ back to his side.

           “Oh that’s it Styles,” Louis nearly growled, “you’re done for.” 

            He put his spatula down and moved them away from the hot stove before getting his own hands on the dips of Harry’s hips. He didn’t even have to move his fingers before Harry was jerking away, but Louis knew all of his moves.

            Harry’s giggles turned into a squeal as Louis found his hips again. At this point, Harry was digging hard enough into Louis’ sides that even Louis was laughing and writhing to get away. Louis let his fingers fly up and down Harry’s sides, making him double over with laughter. Being the fierce opponent that Louis was, he immediately began to crawl onto Harry’s back, all the while tickling every inch of Harry that he could reach.

             Louis sides were inching out of Harry’s reach and Louis knew he was about to was in danger of getting flipped off of Harry’s back. This was no time for cowardice or caution. He tickled on.

            “Okay—” Harry gasped between laughs,” Okay, Lou—Lou—Louis—babe, I’m done!” He dissolved into another fit of ridiculously loud, honking laughs. Even being as serious and lethal as he was, Louis couldn’t help the ridiculous amount of fond that settled in his chest at the sound of Harry laughing so freely.

             “Say it!” Louis demanded.

             “Lou!”

             “Say it, Harold!”

             “Lou—I”

             “That doesn’t sound like surrender, Hazza!”

             Harry was laughing so hard that Louis was afraid he might fall over and squish Louis like the obnoxious tick he knew he was being.

             “I surrender! You win!” He finally got out between breathes, and Louis relented. He slid off of Harry’s back and took in the state of his boyfriend.

             Harry was hunched over with his hands on his knees, still bleary-eyed from sleep, and swaying slightly from the battle he’d just lost. He was wearing just pants he must have pulled on after he woke up, and Louis could see every tattoo rising and falling with his chest. His face was flushed and his hair was even more disheveled, curls sticking out like he’d just walked through a vengeful windstorm. He was looking up at Louis with a grin so wide Louis was sure it was cramping. His eyes were so bright with joy, awe, and contentment that Louis couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to.

             Maintaining eye contact with a still-smiling Louis, he started to pitch forward, smile spreading even wider as his head moved closer and closer to Louis stomach. Louis caught his shoulders right as he made contact, letting out a little explosion sound when he did.

            “Whoa there, cutie,” Louis chuckled.

            “Lou has been compromised. Hit by a Hazza missile at 0600 hours.”

            “What a shame.” Louis shook his head. “Lou was going to finishing making Harry breakfast and then they were going to have a nice cuddle.”

            “There are no winners in war, Lou, only survivors.”

            Louis let out a sharp laugh at that. He was always in awe and in love with his boyfriend, but it was moments like these that really made it all worth it. They’d made it onto the ground now, Harry’s head in Louis’ lap. Louis thought he’d be okay just staying there forever.

            Harry heaved out a laborious gasp and drove his chest upward. He croaked out, “Tell my boyfriend that I love him and that I’ll miss his ass _so_ much.” Louis let out another laugh at that and playfully slapped Harry on the shoulder for his vulgarity. They had returned to the drama. Harry was not about to let Louis defeat him without getting a dramatic death scene.

           “Tell him to move on. I don’t want him crying for me forever. He deserves to be loved” Harry groaned out.

           “Oh, Hazza,” Louis played along, giving such a terrible imitation of crying that he was surprised his old drama teacher didn’t bust down the door and yell at him. Cupping Harry’s face, he wiped imaginary tears from his face with his thumbs, “I could never replace you. It’s always been you for me, and it will always be you.” He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he let some very real love and affection seep into this very fake scene. Harry was smiling too, because of the ridiculousness of the situation, because he knew Louis meant what he was saying, and because he felt exactly the same way.

            He closed his eyes and not so subtly snuggled into Louis left hand. With his not-so-dying breath, he said “Damn straight, Boo,” and promptly went limp, lolling his head to the side with his tongue stuck out.

            Louis chuckled and looked down at his wonder boy, remembering just how lucky he was. He tsked a few times, smile still on his face and said, “Well that’s a shame, I’ll just have to eat all these pancakes meself….”

            Harry peeked open his left eye, stupidly cute grin already forming on his face. Louis set Harry’s head on the floor and got up to resume flipping pancakes. The ones he’d left on the skillet were burnt, but he flipped them over anyway. It was Harry’s fault for distracting him so he’d have to eat them.

            He heard Harry’s voice from the floor, that high-pitched, drawling one Louis had come to associate with a shrug and raising eyebrows. “Maybe...death could be persuaded to take a day off,” he proposed. “For pancakes.”

            Louis loved his boyfriend so much.

            “Yeah, I think that makes sense love,” Louis agreed, knowing full well that he could tell Harry no and he’d stay on the floor for hours just for the drama. He was a serious actor now, Louis had been told. Commitment was key.

            “Who do we talk to about that sort of thing?”

            Harry considered Louis’ question, and after a second a dangerously jubilant grin broke out on his face.

            “Maybe we can ask whatever’s living in your old pair of vans?”

            Louis whipped around and stomped over to Harry, until he was straddling him, mouth agape and eyebrows raised. Harry had his lower lip pulled under his front teeth and small giggles were escaping out of his mouth. He knew that glint in Louis eyes: shocked, affronted, bright, and so, so pleased with Harry for giving him a challenge.

            “Yeah?” Louis asked, sharp and arrogant. “Gonna have a look at me vans? Huh?” He was bouncing his weight from side to side as if waiting to pounce one more time. “What’s wrong with me vans, Styles?” He was slowly getting lower and lower, Harry was squirming with anticipation and glee, still giggling. His smile grew and the crinkles by his eyes deepened as he responded.

            “They smell,” Harry said, before dissolving into another fit of poorly repressed giggles.  

            Louis’ hands were inching toward Harry’s sides again. “Yeah?” he asked, “and what do you suppose we should do about that?”

            Harry’s eyes glinted with the mirth of doing something you know you really shouldn’t do.

            “Toss them in the bin,” he replied, bracing himself for impact.

            Louis’ mouth opened wider and he dove for Harry’s sides, fingers already wiggling and knees going to pin down Harry’s arms. “Oh no you did _not_ just say that!” he grunted out, fighting Harry to stay on his sides.

           Harry was gasping again as he replied, “I-- did!” And he looked way too pleased with himself for Louis’ liking.

           He changed his plan of and let his fingers go still. Harry huffed in relief, chest heaving and smile still stuck on his face.

           “Oh thank god, Lou. I don’t know if I could make it through two of those.”

            Louis only hummed in response, his fingers now working smoothly up and down Harry’s sides. He shivered from something that wasn’t ticklishness as Louis’ face drew nearer to his.

            “Oh we couldn’t have that, now could we?” Louis replied, voice noticeably lower and body arching. He put his face close enough to Harry’s that he could feel the breath coming from his nose.

            Harry was squirming even more now and he tried a feeble “Lou--” but was cut off by Louis nudging his nose against Harry’s. He tightened his grip on Harry’s hips and Harry’s eyes widened with recognition and eagerness.

            “Ah, ah, loser doesn’t get to talk until asked” Louis all but purred. Harry tried lifting his head to connect their lips, but Louis pulled back just enough to make Harry whine.

            “Lou--”

            “Now what was that about me vans, Hazzie?” He somehow managed to look at Harry through his eyelashes, leaving his mouth open to breath on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing.

             Harry made a noise between a growl, whimper, and groan as he tried to touch Louis in any way, but Louis wasn’t letting up at all. They were both still smiling. After a couple more attempts, Harry looked straight into Louis eyes with unrestrained glee.

             “That they fucking” he shifted and huffed, “ _stink_!”

             Louis let out a deafening bark of a laugh and was thrown back by the force of it. Harry took this as his opportunity to break free, and soon Harry had Louis a foot off the floor in his arms.

             Louis was kicking and squirming as Harry kissed all over his torso and shoulders.

            “But you know what?” Harry asked, smile evident in his voice even if Louis was struggling too much to see it. “They don’t stink as much as burnt pancakes.”

            Louis’ body stilled and stiffened all at once with recognition. His mouth was limply open and his eyes were so wide when they found Harry’s that Harry couldn’t help his laughter.

            He recovered in a time so quick it would earn the respect of any kitchen tickle fight veteran. “Shit, Haz! Put me down you oaf! Pancakes are dying out there!”

            Harry set him down on the ground and he turned toward the smoldering lumps of batter on the skillet. There were lines of smoke coming from the bottoms of each circle, and Louis didn’t cook much be he knew that wasn’t good.

           “Oh god, what do I do?” He was standing with his hands in front of him and slightly over the skillet as if he could fix everything by hovering over it. A hand came up and grabbed onto his wrist, pulling it away from the hot surface. Another hand reached around to turn the stove off, and then pulled Louis’ other hand to his chest.

           “Well, burning yourself, shouldn’t be in your plan, but that’s just my opinion.”

           “Shit! Shit shit shit shit, do I take them off? Will it melt the spatula?” He turned to look at Harry and the panic in his eyes was too endearing for Harry to handle. He started giggling and Louis pouted.

           “This isn’t funny!” Louis whined, but he was starting to giggle too. “You’re eating these, Styles.”

           “Sounds great to me, Boo,” Harry said as he reached a hand up to scratch the nape of Louis neck. Louis leaned his head back into Harry’s hand and he laughed, a mixture of adrenaline, frustration, and amusement at his own mistakes bubbling up. He let out a groan and Harry giggled some more.

           “Just fix it,” Louis relented with his head still angled toward the ceiling. Harry plopped a kiss on his lips then let go of him to fix the burnt mess.

            It really wasn’t bad at all, only five little blobs of burnt, it was nothing he couldn’t scrape off and wipe down with a wet towel and soap. He put a new skillet on the heat, turned the stove on, and resumed making pancakes.

            He was scooping some batter to pour, when he noticed it was a bit different from his own. There were some lumps and that was normal, but it was a bit too yellow and smelled a bit sharp. He opened his mouth to ask Louis if he’d followed their usual recipe, but upon seeing the overwhelming and adorable amount of despondency in his eyes, he decided otherwise.

            “Oh Lou,” he started, “it really wasn’t that bad, see! I’m already making more!”

            Louis sighed. “Yeah…I’m sorry I tickled you until the pancakes burnt and now you have to make them.” His pout was absolutely pitiful and Harry resisted the urge to giggle at how adorable he was.

            “Oh, Lou, no baby,” Harry turned around and squished Louis’ face between his hands, “you are perfect and have done nothing wrong ever forever amen.” He was laying it on thick, but he needed to see his boy laugh. Harry kept squishing Louis’ face and telling him very exaggeratedly how wonderful he was and _finally_ Louis cracked a smile.

            “Damn straight, Haz” he echoed from their conversation earlier that morning.

            Harry giggled and kissed him on the nose before returning to the pancakes. Louis busied himself with getting everything else they might need for breakfast on the table: cups, plates, forks, syrup, fruit, whatever the hell kind of weird brown juice thing Harry liked to drink, and some milk for himself because calcium. Drink your milk, kids, not Harry’s weird dirt juice. Harry finished the rest of the pancakes within five minutes and they were soon sat at the table, dishing out pancakes, juice, and fruit.

            “They look wonderful, Lou.” Harry beamed at Louis without even a trace of mocking. “Thank you for breakfast love,” he said as he curled his hand around Louis.

            “You’re welcome, baby,” Louis was beaming and blushing and he didn’t care that he looked like a fool. It was for Harry. Everything was always for Harry.

            Harry broke their little moment to take a bit of one of his pancakes, and he didn’t make a face, per say, but he didn’t smile either. Louis had taken his eyes off of Harry to take a bit of his own so he didn’t see Harry’s initial reaction. Harry watched him as he ate, and nearly spat out his full mouth of food. Louis face was the picture of confusing and disgust and it looked like he’d nearly gagged within the first couple of chews.

            Louis heard Harry nearly spray everywhere and turned to him with knit eyebrows and a look of actual anguish on his face.

            “Oh god,” he said through the food. “Oh god, these are horrible. I think I’m going to die.”

            “Hey,” Harry replied through his own partially chewed mouthful, “chew and swallow and then talk.”

            Louis gave him a look that Harry could only explain as a very confused _what the FUCK?_ and Harry really did lose it that time, food making its way back to his plate. Louis followed his lead and even began wiping his mouth with a napkin. Harry couldn’t stop laughing.

            “It feels like my tongue is on fire,” Louis started, “but also just ate one of my baby sister’s art projects. Also, I think I’m going to die.”

            Harry caught his breath enough to reply, but his voice was still shaking. “Oh c’mon, they’re not that bad, they j—“

            “NOT THAT BAD?” Louis shouted. His hands were on either side of his head, as if he was trying to squeeze his brains out to forget the whole thing.

            “No!” Louis looked incredulous. “See,” Harry continued. He poked another piece with his fork, “you just have to give it another— ” Louis grabbed the fork out of Harry’s hand before it got to his mouth.

            “Oh hell no! I am _not_ letting you eat that. You eat some shit, Hazza, but no. This is worse than shit. This is shit’s shit.” Louis was smiling by the end of it, laughing a bit maniacally, but laughing none the less.

            “Oi!” Harry started to protest, but cut himself off with his own giggles when Louis utter baffled face intensified. They were both laughing now, and Harry was relieved. “Oh thank god, Lou. I really didn’t want to eat that again.”

            “You insufferable flowery dunce. I’m all for you pretending like you like my cooking, and I know you do, don’t tell me you don’t, but I don’t want you to _die_ because of it!”

            “Lou, it really wasn’t that bad” Harry consoled. “I doubt I would have died.”

            “I think a part of me died,” Louis replied completely straight-face, looking down at the soggy yellowish lump on his plate. Harry bursted with a cackle again, and Louis poker face didn’t last long.

            After a bit, Harry got up to drape himself over Louis back to snuggle into his neck.

            “So um,” Harry began, “what exactly did you…. _do.._ to these?”

            Louis instantly turned red, the tips of his ears to the base of his neck turning scarlet and his bottom lip retreating under his front teeth.

            “Well,” Louis started, “we didn’t have flour, so I made a substitute.”

            Harry didn’t say anything, but his eyebrows were creeping higher and higher on his forehead. Louis continued.

            “You substitute stuff all the time! So I just grabbed white powdery stuff that doesn’t taste like anything, and I blended it all up and then I had flour!”

            Louis could only recall a handful of times when Harry was speechless. This was one of them. He tried cracking a smile as Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and head tilted. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he couldn’t remember how to talk.

            “I love you so fucking much, Louis William Tomlinson.” Harry all but tackled Louis right out of his seat as he wrapped himself around Louis and kissed him. Louis didn’t really know what he was expecting, but this was certainly an acceptable response. Harry pulled back and continued, “That is the most adorable dumb thing you’ve ever done.” He was so earnest that Louis forgot how to be offended. Harry was staring at him with so much awe that he was starting to blush again.

            “Lou,” Harry said, “babe. You _need_ flour for pancakes. Really for anything that calls for flour.” Harry was shaking his head at this point, still in awe. “You can’t just bullshit yourself some flour, love.” He was giggling again. “When it says flour, you _need_ flour. Why didn’t you just go get some?”

            “I thought, I don’t know, you do it all the time! Why do you get to be creative and I don’t?” They both knew it was because when Harry was creative the food was still incredible (or at least edible), and when Louis was creative it becomes something of a public hazard.

            “You just didn’t want to put pants on.”

            “So what?” Louis immediately responded.

            Harry was not expecting that response and let out a noiseless laugh, falling more and more in love with and in awe of his wonderful boyfriend.

            “Lou,” Harry started, still looking straight into Louis’ eyes, “we _do_ have flour.”

            It was Louis’ turn to be baffled. “Oh bull-fucking-shit no we do not!” he replied. “I dug through all of your stupid hippy foods in the cabinet and we definitely do not!”

            Harry got up and moved toward the cabinet. Louis’ heart sunk to his stomach, and he was very near hysterical laughter again. Harry proceeded to remove three containers of various powdery things from the cabinet and place them on the table. They were labeled “Semolina,” “Spelt,” and “Unbleached,” all with a little cartoon flower after the name.

            Harry looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised and arms crossed.

            “’Salmonella,’ ‘spit,’ and ‘you in the summer’,” Louis responded with more sass than he knew he was capable of this early in the morning, “I don’t see your point, Harold.” But he definitely saw Harry’s point and he was already fighting back the laughter. He was really dumb, but was he going to make Harry suffer a bit more for it? Of course he was.

            Harry took a quick breath. “Lou. Baby.” He crouched to look into Louis’ eyes because his boyfriend was vehemently denying him eye contact. It was because he already shaking with suppressed laughter and he knew it’d be written all over his face. “You’re a fucking dolt, and I love you and your dumb, wonderful arse.”

            Louis abandoned all hope of holding anything in and let himself erupt into hilarity. Harry went with them and fell to the floor with the force of it all. After a second, however, Harry’s eyes caught on something on the balcony.

            “Louis,” he sighed, “Lou, _please_ tell me that’s drugs.” He was staring at the small laboratory Louis had made outside with his blender and Louis’ hands flew to his mouth.

            “Oh god,” he said through his hands. Only his eyes were visible above his hands, and the crinkles around them deepened. “What if it’s not drugs?” Harry sighed, but there was nothing but fondness behind it.

            “I will love and cherish you. But I will also never, _ever_ let you live this down.” He took his phone out to take photo evidence of the mess on the balcony, the mess on the table, the mess that was Louis, and as he went to capture the mess that was the kitchen Louis sprang into action, launching himself onto Harry’s back. Harry stumbled a bit, but was otherwise unphased. Actually, he seemed fairly happy with himself.

            “Stupid giant oaf muscles,” Louis grumbled. “Can’t a guy catch a break?”

            “Oh, Lou. My beautiful, beautiful Lou,” Harry responded as he took a photo of the burnt blobs still in the sink.

            He opened the group message he and Louis had with their mothers and Louis only managed a groan. He knew he deserved it and that he should just accept his fate. He slid down to the floor off of Harry’s back and started to slowly move back to the time like an inchworm. Harry laughed again and picked Louis up by his middle like he weighed nothing. He grumbled something about “magic oaf strength” again, but Harry just though he was cute when he was grumpy.

            He deposited Louis back into his chair and hit send. Louis’ phone dinged a second later and he was met with all of the pictures and Harry’s caption: _When Lou needs flour_.

            Louis’ mum was already typing, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the onslaught of teasing to begin. Quickly, he typed out a message that he hoped would shut them up for just a little bit, and hit send. Harry audibly “aww”ed at Louis with the brightest fucking smile on his face. He lumbered over to drape himself on Louis and kiss him everywhere, possibly suffocating him in the process. He heard a camera shutter go off, but he was way past caring.

            When he looked at his phone again, he let himself feel warm and fond all over looking at what Harry sent in reply.

           

            Louis: _I don’t need anything but my Hazza and two mums that love me <3 :p_

Haz: _< 3_

            Haz: _Damn straight, Boo._

            Mummy Anne: _Lord help us all. Love you both._

            Mum: _One of you please clean up before someone calls the police on you two_

_for_ _drug activity! Love you!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! It really means the world to me, and I really hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you liked it, please consider reblogging [ this](https://hereforhappylarry.tumblr.com/post/175746740083/flour-flower-by-eleven11-hereforhappylarry) tumblr post! Thank you so much again!


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